The Lord of the Jeans,1 the Really Sick Parody
by Terminus Est
Summary: When Fido Shaggings, a Bobbit of the Spire crosses paths with Fandalf the Puce, He is sent on the perilious task of tossing the One Jeans of Power into the FLaming Lava Wonky Thingy before the Dork Lord Saulang gets a hold of it and does Really Bad Stuff.
1. A long dreaded Party

The Lord of the Jeans By Andrea Tee Shao Wen  
  
Obligatory Legal Disclamer Thingy: OK. This fic' has not been authorised by the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema or anyone else with a connection to the Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings, names and related indicia is a trademark of the JRR Tolkien Estate and does not belong to me, though I sure as heck wish it did. Err. thank you. Now read this fic.  
  
For Dad and Shari. Happy Birthday! Also for Mum & Ryan.  
  
Three Crates for the traffickers under the ground Seven for the marketers to be theirs alone, Nine for the Dork Riders to share all around One for the Dork Lord on his Dork throne One Jeans to Rule them all, One Jeans to Shrink them, One jeans to Fade them all And in the Dorkness bind them.  
  
Chapter one = A long-dreaded party  
  
It was a lovely summer's day in Little Hearth. Lovely for everyone that is, except Fido Shaggings.  
  
Fido sat in his large, overstuffed armchair, staring off into empty space and brooding. (He had chosen this as a favourite pastime as this actually happened to make him look marginally intelligent.) His gardener, Phlegm Andpee, was clipping the rose bushes outside.  
  
The reason for Fido's dire mood that day was none other than his uncle, Bit O' Shaggings who had lost his mind as the result of over consummation of Farmer Faggot's pickled onions. On the upside, the onions had given Bit O' an abnormally long life thus enabling him to live up to a hundred and eleven; the cause for today's big celebration up in Bobbiton.  
  
If he knew his uncle correctly, the party would be a wild one. Lots of spitting, swearing and throwing up all around. Fido's idea of a good time involved a quiet game of cards, munching a carrot or two and curling up in his little Bobbit hole with his favourite book (Baby's First Words) which he found extremely deep and very challenging indeed.  
  
Fido was drawn from his train of thought by a pounding in his head. (Brooding was hard work) So he slid from his chair to make himself a pot of strong tea. And who should he run into at that very moment but Dandruff the Puce- a wizard and strong opposer of the Dork side.  
  
"Well, hello, Dandruff! Jolly good to see you."  
  
"Mrrrtsghp." was all the answer Dandruff could muster. The Dork Lord Saulang had stolen Dandruff's one and only toothbrush for his own dork and dire purposes. Without the convenience of oral cleaning agents, the wizard soon found that all his teeth had left him.and he was always misplacing his dentures.  
  
After several minutes of searching his voluminous robes, Dandruff retrieved something that looked very suspiciously like a lump of clay which, to Fido's disgust, he stuffed into his mouth with much aplomb. "Good to see you too, Fido." The wizard said, adjusting his false teeth with a tweak of his little finger. "I am here on a diplomatic mission."  
  
"From Alderaan?" Fido cried, clapping his hands in joy. Star Wars had come out early in DVD that year and was one of his favourite movies. "Are we going to blast the Death Star?'  
  
Dandruff shot him a withering look. "No, young Fido. Your uncle." checking for people within earshot, Dandruff bent down and whispered in Fido's ear. "Has something I would very much desire to have."  
  
"Ooooh! What is it?"  
  
"The Dork Lord Saulang has been up to his dork tricks again. This time, he's marketing counterfeit jeans in the underground. Bit O' has stumbled accidentally upon a pair of very expensive (fake) Levis. It must be destroyed before some unsuspecting Elf buys them and they shrink.and.and.he will be crushed! Crushed to the consistency of instant soup mix-the ones that come in those cute little packets-crushed, I tell you!" Dandruff was breathing hard, now. And his position near Fido's rather large nose was making the Bobbit feel extremely uncomfortable.  
  
"Yed, Dandrud," Fido said placatingly, pinching his (Fido's) nose. "Don'd worry. Bud how did Bid O' ged dhe jeans?"  
  
"They were dropped by the creature Bottom."  
  
"From Bottom enterprises©? The pipe marketing company?" Fido cried, aghast.  
  
"Indeed. Saulang has many spies. Birds.beasts.math teachers.even the people at Bottom Enterprises©. The jeans must be destroyed! You must do this."  
  
"Why?!"  
  
Dandruff gripped the Bobbit's arm tightly, gesturing violently with his free hand. "Because, Fido, the jeans have a magic pull. It wants to be worn! And when that happens, the consequences will be terrible."  
  
"But what does that have to do with me?" Fido whined. "I'm going to sulk."  
  
"Fido, only two of us know that these jeans have been worn by Bit O' Shaggings. Only we know how unsanitary your uncle is. With this knowledge in mind, you will be able to resist it's siren call! Do you understand?!" Dandruff cried, eyes popping scarily. "And besides, I've got an appointment with my manicurist tomorrow."  
  
"Oh." Fido couldn't come up with anything else. 'oh' had pretty much used up all the possibilities.  
  
He needn't have worried, however, for Dandruff had popped his head out of the window and yanked Phlegm into the hole by the pointy ears. "Phlem Andpee! What are you doing here?!"  
  
"You elongated my ears, you paranoid old fart!" Phlegm yelled, whacking Dandruff over the head with his trowel. "I was just digging up the carrots!"  
  
"How much did you hear?!"  
  
Phlegm yanked the headphones off his head. "Nothing! Clear nothing! I was listening to the radio you old fool!"  
  
"I don't believe you." Dandruff said, curling his lip suspiciously. "You're going to follow Fido to the hotel of the Hopping Horse. And don't you dare try anything funny!"  
  
Striding to the wardrobe and bumping his head several times on the beams, Dandruff eased the rancid, sweat-dripping article of clothing from the drawer and tossed it at Fido. "Look at the label, Fido! What do you see?!"  
  
"Made in Taiwan." The Bobbit said, peering through the grime.  
  
"No, No! The other label!"  
  
"I.I see.linty markings. But I cannot read them."  
  
"Ah. It is just as I feared." Said Dandruff looking thoroughly delighted. "It is the dork language of Bordor. It reads 'One Jeans to Rule them all, One Jeans to shrink them. One Jeans to fade them all, and in the dorkness bind them.' It is the One Jeans! The One Jeans that Saulang needs to start an empire of counterfeit denim!"  
  
"I am ready. What must I do?" Fido asked, sticking his chest out. Phlegm, in a fit of spite, prodded him on the bum with a spade.  
  
"Go! To the hotel of the Hopping Horse!" The wizard cried, booting them out the door. Watching them stagger down the street, Dandruff wondered if he should have told them about the Nine Dork Riders. Hmm. Maybe not.  
  
End of Chapter One 


	2. At the Hotel of the Hopping Horse

Chapter Two = At the Hotel of the Hopping Horse  
  
Obligatory Legal Disclamer Thingy: OK. This fic' has not been authorised by the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema or anyone else with a connection to the Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings, names and related indicia is a trademark of the JRR Tolkien Estate and does not belong to me, though I sure as heck wish it did. Err. thank you. Now read this fic.  
  
As always, for Chris, Zoe and Jose  
  
Plodding down the bank of the Brandy Wine river, Fido drew in deep breaths of air, wondering what to say. Phlegm was wandering several feet behind him, kicking at rocks and looking very surly indeed.  
  
"So, Flam. How're you doing?"  
  
"Horrible. And it's phlegm, meatball head."  
  
Fido considered that statement. "Oh. So.why'd your parents name you after a bodily fluid, anyway?"  
  
"Dunno. Why'd your parents name you after a dog?"  
  
The Bobbit had no reply to that, so he remained silent. Over the years, he had found that talking to Phlegm when he was in a bad mood resembled conversing with a particularly uncommunicative wall. Only you got more from a wall. At length, he managed to form a thought. "Hey, Phlegm, D'you know how to get to Pee?" Pee was a small town in which the Hopping Horse was situated and was mainly inhabited by Men. (no women, by the way, which is why everyone there was perpetually in a state of constant sulkiness.)  
  
"Pee? Nope." Phlegm growled, kicking a stone and bruising his big toe. "No idea at all."  
  
"Oh!" Fido cried, sitting flat on his bottom, tears streaming down his cheeks. "We're lost! Lost with nothing but a pair of smelly jeans."  
  
"Jeans?" Phlegm asked, eyes resting on the pants. "Jeans!"  
  
"Phlegm! What are you doing?!"  
  
"I want those jeans! It's calling me! It says it'll improve my luck with women if I bonk you over the head with a rock and take them and wear them so that the nine Dork Riders will be drawn to it's siren call!" Phlegm shouted, a manic expression on his face. "Give them to me!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Fool of a Bobbit! All Bobbits are smelly!"  
  
"Hang on, Aren't you one of us?"  
  
"No! I'm just a really short Man! Give the pants to me, Fido! You're never getting to Pee!" Phlegm yelled, leaping at Fido, arms outstretched. Fido began to sob.  
  
But Phlegm's aim was well off it's mark. Missing Fido, he crashed into a boulder and lay very still.  
  
Fido climbed to his feet, crushing a clump of daises in the process. Standing there, wondering just what to do with his mad gardener, he looked up at a far-off noise.  
  
It was Stinkin' Crook and Hairy Lendabuck, two of Fido's distant relations. "Well done, Old Shaggings! You've got him!"  
  
"Yeah. We saw Phlegm trying to have it on with you.lousy employer molester." Hairy grunted, prodding Phlegm with his toe. "What brings you here?"  
  
"I need to get to Pee," said Fido slowly. "D'you know the way?"  
  
"There's a ferry." Hairy said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "But It's not been used for three years. I don't think."  
  
"I'll take it!" Fido cried, stuffing the jeans into his coat pocket. "Let's go, chums!"  
  
***  
  
"This stinks!" Fido wailed a moment later. The Ferry had indeed fallen into disrepair. The boards were creaky, there was a huge hole in it's floor and there was something that looked rather suspiciously like a used tampon slotted in between two planks. "We can't use this!"  
  
"You want to get to Pee, don't you?" Stinkin' said, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, here's the Huckleberry Ferry. Only mode of transport around these parts."  
  
"Hang on," Fido said, shushing him. "What's that?"  
  
They all jumped as a mad cackling came from a clump of bushes. There, a bearded man with knobbly knees was cavorting wildly around wearing a nightgown and a feather boa. "I'm your transit officer!" He cried, leaping about. "How may I help you?"  
  
"He's gone bonkers!" Hairy breathed. "We'd best leave without him."  
  
They were just climbing into the boat when the creepy man caught sight of the trouser leg dangling from Fido's coat pocket. Grinning like a mental patient, he capered nearer and nearer to the ferry. "The One Jeans! Give them to me!" He cried, shaking a gnarled finger in their direction. "The Dork Lord shall pay me well for this!"  
  
"No!" Fido screamed, kicking out at him with a furry foot. "Go back to your master!"  
  
Leaving the freaky transit officer behind them, the Bobbits sailed down the Brandy Wine River to Pee.  
  
The Hotel of the hopping horse was luxuriously furnished. Owned by Barleymad Butterbeer, it stood in the middle of a distinguished part of Pee and was meant for gentelmen who felt just a bit inadequate for lack of the fairer sex. The three Bobbits looked around in awe at the leather sofas and velvet carpeting.  
  
"Hey, Fido." Stinkin' whispered, prodding his cousin on the shoulder. "That man's been doing nothing but stare at you since we came in."  
  
"Oh, really?" Fido said, feeling rather flattered. "Where?"  
  
Turning around, the Bobbit looked through narrowed eyes at the very large figure in the corner, lolled on a mahogany armchair and sipping an apple martini. "Oooh. What d'you suppose he wants me for?"  
  
"I dunno. You'd best be on your guard, though."  
  
Sitting down on a small stool, Fido ordered a Mai Tai, constantly poking Hairy in the eye with the swizzle stick.  
  
"Ouch! Stop that."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"No, you're not. Just stop that and finish your girly drink."  
  
"It is not a girly drink!" Fido said huffily.  
  
"Of course it is." Intervened Stinkin'. It's pink. And fruity. And it smells like an old lady."  
  
"Shut up, compost face!"  
  
Outraged, Stinkin' reached out a hand and slapped at Fido, causing the liquor to spill all over the Bobbit's breeches."  
  
"Look what you've done!" Fido cried. "Now I've got to change my pants."  
  
"Your fault."  
  
Scowling, Fido pulled the jeans on. ***  
  
The doors of the Hopping Horse exploded like a child blowing up a paper bag as nine horsed riders clad in black burst in.  
  
"Give us the Jeans!"  
  
"No!" Fido yelled, cowering expertly behind an expensive statue of a nude woman wearing a tiara. "You'll never get the pants!"  
  
The man in the corner had leaped up from his sofa, brandishing a large, leather bound book. "Be off with you!" He bellowed, shaking the book in their faces. "I'm a lawyer, and I'll read you your rights!"  
  
With a shriek, the nine Dork Riders fled for their lives.  
  
"You draw too much attention to yourself." The man said, scowling and turning a colour vaguely similar tothat of a Maraschino cherry.  
  
"What? Asked Fido, tugging at his waistband for no apparent reason. "What were those? And who are you?"  
  
"I am Prancer, the Scout. And those were the Nine Dork Riders. They were parody writers, once.Saulang tricked them by giving them nine fake Calvin Kliens. The trousers shrank in the rain.whilst they were still wearing them. Squeezed into submission, they gave up their souls to the Dork Lord so that he would give them access to a tailor. He never did. Now, they hunt the One Jeans. All their thought is bent upon it. They seek it night and day.you must never put them on, for then the Dork Riders will find you."  
  
"And what will happen if they do?"  
  
"Really bad stuff. Stuff involving a live marmot, a Barney body suit and Telletubby reruns on a black and white TV."  
  
Fido shuddered despite himself. "Where is Dandruff?"  
  
"In court."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Sherry, his manicurist, cut his nails too short. He's suing her for it right now." Prancer paused. "Dandruff sent me to get you. He wants me to take you to Riverdale, home of the Elves. There, we will learn the next step of your journey.  
  
End of Chapter Two 


	3. THe Council of Along

Chapter Three = The Council of Along  
  
Obligatory Legal Disclamer Thingy: OK. This fic' has not been authorised by the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema or anyone else with a connection to the Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings, names and related indicia is a trademark of the JRR Tolkien Estate and does not belong to me, though I sure as heck wish it did. Err. thank you. Now read this fic.  
  
For Vivian. Also for Gui Zhen for no reason at all.  
  
It was a long time before they met Phlegm again. Upon reaching Riverdale, they found him using the alias of 'Weatherbee' and complaining constantly about a certain fellow named Archie who seemed to give him numerous ulcers.  
  
The Elves were beautiful creatures and Fido was smitten.especially by the one named Gloryfinder who had beautiful blonde hair.ah blonde.there was, however, a shortage of breeches which wouldn't have bothered Fido if only they hadn't insisted upon him wearing skirts and leggings.that was just so last year.  
  
Several days later, the head Elf, Along, called for a secret Council out in the courtyard. Dandruff had arrived earlier in the day in high spirits. He had won his case and accrued an amount of twelve million dollars and was considering purchasing a condo up in Rotan.  
  
Fido found the council exceedingly boring. Along seemed to enjoy saying the words 'Bordor' and 'Doom' in a really scary voice.  
  
".this one Doom."  
  
".answer the threat of Bordor."  
  
The Bobbit was sitting, slumped in his chair, kept awake only by the heavenly sight of Gloryfinder who was sitting in the chair opposite. Lovely! And he'd forgotten his leggings this morning, too.  
  
"Bring forth the jeans, Fido."  
  
"Huh? What?"  
  
"The jeans." Along wheedled as though talking to an exceptionally slow child.  
  
"Oh, right. The jeans.right."  
  
Stepping forward, Fido placed the dreaded garment atop a pedestal. "There! Happy now?!"  
  
"Very good!" Along said distractedly. "I shall give you a lolly. You may return to your seat now."  
  
Muttering, Fido sat down in a huff.  
  
A very large man sitting beside Gloryfinder stood, feet planted apart, looking very smug indeed. "It is a gift!" he cried, staring hungrily at the pants. "A gift to the foes of the Dork Side. Why not wear these jeans?" he licked his lips. "They look very comfortable indeed."  
  
"Do not be fooled by the material, Bronnir!" Prancer said with a frown. (he was always frowning and scowling as he thought this made him look very manly.) "This has been woven from very cheap polyester! *scowl* It will give thee many rashes!"  
  
"And what.would a scout know of this matter?" Bronnir sneered.  
  
"Aha! This is no mere Scout thou seeest before thee!" A very charming Elf said, rising. "He is Alreadygone.son of Longgone.heir to the throne of Gonad. Thou owest him thine butt. He is well skilled in the art of sewing. Aye.he wields a mean needle."  
  
"Sit down, Duplofirst Brownbush.*frown* Thou art very noisy." The newly revealed Alreadygone said, waving him off like a fly. "Yes.it is true. I am the King of Gonad. Bow to me!"  
  
"Gonad has no king. Gonad needs no king. Especially not you. No! I am the King of Gonad! Bow to me!"  
  
"I thought you said Gonad has no king!" Fido said, feeling very confused.  
  
"Well.never mind that! I am the king!"  
  
"No! I'm the king of Gonad!" Along yelled for no reason at all.  
  
"No! No! Me! I'm the king!"  
  
"I'm Spartacus! I'm Spartacus!" Somebody yelled enthusiastically. He was quickly put down.  
  
"You're not the King! You're the drain sweeper from Milkwood!"  
  
"Am too the king!"  
  
"Are not!"  
  
Within a matter of seconds, the quiet courtyard had turned into a raving madhouse. Fido decided it was time to do something.  
  
"I'll take it! I'll take the jeans to Bordor!"  
  
"Nobody said anything about that, you silly twonk!" A Dwarf cried before arguing again. "I'm the king!"  
  
"No, seriously! I'll take it! Just stop fighting!"  
  
One by one, the members of the Council quietened. Along unclamped his jaws from  
  
Dandruff's foot and Bronnir stopped pulling Duplofirst's hair. "What did you say?"  
  
"I'll destroy the jeans! Heck, I'll even throw in an oven toaster each if you'll just stop fighting."  
  
"Very well," Said Along. "I've always wanted toast for breakfast. It's a deal."  
  
"But.I don't even know how to."  
  
"Destroy the Jeans? That's simple. Just walk over to Bordor and toss it into the Flaming Lava Wonky Thingy®. That should work."  
  
"The Flaming Lava what?"  
  
"Wonky thingy®. Just follow the signs," Along said, indicating a large wooden plaque shaped like an arrow that simply said; 'this way to the Flaming Lava Wonky Thingy®.'  
  
"Oh. But."  
  
"Never fear, young Bobbit!" Alreadygone said with a defiant glance at Bronnir. "I, as the king of Gonad shall protect you! You have my sword."  
  
"And thou havest mine Bow." Said Duplofirst wispily.  
  
"And my axe." A large and hairy dwarf with chunky braids said. "I'm Gibblet son of Groin, by the way."  
  
Throwing Alreadygone a sneer, Bronnir stood. "OK. I'll go. I'll protect you." He blew a raspberry at the Scout.  
  
Fandalf, stuffing his dentures into his mouth said, "I'll go too. Maria said she won't go out with me unless I got some exercise. So.you have my pointy hat thingy, I guess."  
  
"Oi!" Cried Hairy and Stinkin together, dragging Phlegm behind them. "Will there be mountains?"  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
"Then we're coming too. Going to toss Phlegm off one when we get there."  
  
Alreadygone looked simply delighted as though the thought had never occurred to him. He kept sneaking glances at Bronnir.  
  
Along smiled. "Very well. You shall be the Fellowship of the Jeans. And may none of you come back."  
  
  
  
End of Chapter Three 


	4. The Jeans Go South

Chapter Four = the Jeans go south  
  
Obligatory Legal Disclamer Thingy: OK. This fic' has not been authorised by the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema or anyone else with a connection to the Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings, names and related indicia is a trademark of the JRR Tolkien Estate and does not belong to me, though I sure as heck wish it did. Err. thank you. Now read this fic.  
  
For Lydia and the Short One. Also for G.Ma.  
  
When Alreadygone, Duplofirst, Gimlet, Bronnir and Fandalf told Fido he had their weapons, the Bobbit was actually kinda thinking they meant to carry them themselves. Weighed down by a hat, shield, sword, axe and bow, Fido was starting to regret ever agreeing to go on the whole stupid mission.  
  
Their first stop was Cactin; a desert area literally covered in the prickly plant - hence the name. Fido's heart sank at the sight of a sign that read; 'if you're looking for the Flaming Lava Wonky Thingy®, you've got a long way to go, my friend.' Dropping the baggage, he sat down on a cactus-free spot and moped.  
  
They rarely caught sight of the Dork Riders.especially during the day - parody writers feared light. They did, however, spot the creature Bottom who slunk about watching the jeans wherever they went. "Alreadygone.why is Bottom following us?" Fido asked.  
  
"Why're you asking him?!" cried Bronnir, pounding his fist against a cactus by mistake. "Talk to me! I'm the king of Gonad!"  
  
"So, Alreadygone.what happened?" Fido prodded, ignoring Bronnir.  
  
"Ah.Bottom was an accountant, once, but Saulang's evil consumed him. The Dork Lord has many Spies, you know."  
  
"Yes, yes.Birds, beasts and Math teachers. I know all about them."  
  
"Right. Anyway, he was tortured for the henious crime of dropping the jeans. They made him eat licorice allsorts until his ears bled." Said Alreadygone in a colourless sort of voice.  
  
"Ouch."  
  
"Stop interrupting, will you? *Scowl* Now, he seeks revenge upon the one who carries the jeans. You, namely."  
  
Fido shuddered. "So he'll try to kill me?"  
  
"Well, he won't be asking you for a game of Yhatzee, that's for sure. He'll probrably beat you to death with a fish and eat you." Alreadygone said, laughing. He had a really sick sense of humour.  
  
There was a loud cawing from the South. Looking up, Fido screamed and fainted. "Seagulls!" Duplofirst cried, ducking under a cactus.  
  
"Why are we hiding?!"Hairy asked, looking out at the storm of white birds.  
  
"Seagulls! Many! Poop!"  
  
"Aaaaaarrrgh!"  
  
Whithin seconds, Cactin was covered not in cacti but a flood of bird waste. Once the creatures had passed, the Fellowship eased themselves from under the cactus.  
  
"The passage south is being guarded!" Dandruff said, wiping a drop of dung from his hat with a tissue. "We must take the pass of Carhadhas!"  
  
Gibblet was laughing. "You see, master Bobbit? Saulang's spies? Birds? Those were.the birds? Birds? Geddit?!" He fell to the ground, pounding his fists against it while the rest of the Fellowship watched.  
  
"Okay," Duplofirst said slowly, "Thou art sure we cannot leave him hither?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Riiiight." ***  
  
"Carhadhas is basically a very huge mountian. Lotsa snow." Stinkin' read over Fido's shoulder. The young Bobbit was keeping a log of the happenings during their quest. "Good grief, could anyone be more cryptic?"  
  
"Have you disposed of Phlegm yet?" Fido asked, moving his hand to cover the poem he had written about Gloryfinder.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Did it ages ago. Alreadygone tried to drown Bronnir in a snowdrift, too. Hang on." Stinkin' moved Fido's hand aside. "It's very lonely up here. Am amusing self by communicating with rocks and writing in journal. Really, really miss Gloryfinder. Reckon I could find Duplofirst attractive if only he would stop complaining about how all his hair care potions have frozen up in the snow. This is great!" He hooted, laughing. "Believe me, Fido, your life would make an epic!"  
  
"You think?" said Fido drily.  
  
"Oh, of course!" His cousin said, a big grin plastered on his face. "Here, I'll lend you my pen and you can go write a poem about it.  
  
"Alas!, the perils of my life! "The endless pain! The tears, the strife! "Gloryfinder won't be my wife! "It is far to bad that he should know I'm gay, "For when I am near, he runs away, "He's gone for good, it breaks my heart. "It's because I am a silly fart, "I am so stressed, I just can't relax, "I'm whining about the lack of s."  
  
".and you NEVER wash your hair!" Bronnir yelled before Stinkin' could go any further and before this story could really get weird "You've probrably got lice! "  
  
"I will not wash my hair because I am KING!!!" Alreadygone screamed back, turning roughly the colour of an eggplant. "You poncy little twit!" He then proceeded to stuff snow into Bronnir's ears.  
  
"Okay, that's it!" Dandruff boomed. "I have had it with you two. I don't care who is king, you two are not going to try freezing each other to death any more." Alreadygone and Bronnir sat up in the snow, looking extremely guilty. Alreadygone picked up a pebble and was examining it with a show of great intrest. Dandruff rolled his eyes.  
  
"We're going through the mines of Morwen."  
  
"I forsee an unplesantness,"said Duplofirst. He was ignored. ***  
  
An excerpt from Fido Shagging's journal  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
We're in the mines of Morwen. It's very hard to write, as it's extremely dark. Woke up this morning with an awful splitting headache only to find blasted Bronnir stomping about, yelling again. Good Girt, he never stops yelling, ridiculous bearded clot. It's great for terrifying the spiders, (There's a lot of them in Morwen) but it's really annoying if you just want to enjoy your breakfast. Deststable prat. And he's mad about the jeans, too. Throws a wobbly every time he sees it. If he keeps this up, I shall clout him. Useless blat. He called me an unspeakable short git yesterday, too. Hmph. I am really looking forward to clouting him. Very.  
  
Gibblet kicked up a huge fuss today because his cousin Puffin has been dead for over two hundred years. Accused Duplofirst of stealing the message from his inbox. Duplofirst insisted he did not do such a thing, whereapon Gibblet lost his temper and tried to kill him but accidentally knocked an ancient metal bedpan down a dried up well. Nobody knows just how it got there-Dwarves are strange creatures. The noise drew a whole army of Pocks on us (Saulang's beasts) Pocks are a bunch of very strange creatures who can give you a serious case of acne if you look at them for too long. All of us got a severe dose of pimples except Duplofirst. Thank goodness. He would've been devastated. We met up with some gargantuan beast of the Underworld who reminds me very strongly of my math teacher back in Elementary school.anyway, Dandruff died.  
  
We're out of the mines now, though, Gibblet's just telling Duplofirst that the whole 'I'm gonna kill you' incident was the result of the musty, underground air. He was forgiven, and the two have become great friends. I forsee a long and abiding friendship between both of them, unless of course, Gibblet tells Duplofirst about that little incident during which he replaced the Elf's hair tonic with Alreadygone's horse pee samples. By the way, Bottom still wants to kill me.  
  
End of Chapter Four 


	5. Lotoflory And many Startling Revelations

Chapter five = Lotoflory (and many startling revelations)  
  
Obligatory Legal Disclamer Thingy: OK. This fic' has not been authorised by the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema or anyone else with a connection to the Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings, names and related indicia is a trademark of the JRR Tolkien Estate and does not belong to me, though I sure as heck wish it did. Err. thank you. Now read this fic.  
  
For Mun and all my cousins with profound adoration  
  
The woods of Lotoflory was a beautiful place and home to the Elven queen Gladeintheair (also known around Lotoflory as 'Puffy' the peacock-crested girdle. Don't ask me.)  
  
The moment they'd arrived, the Fellowship had been taken to Gladeintheair and her husband Celeryborn. "Nine companions left Riverdale," she said, "Yet.only seven remain. Tell me, where if Dandruff? For I much desire to sleep.uh.speak with him."  
  
"He has fallen into shadow." said Alreadygone, bowing.  
  
"Why'd you answer for?!" screeched Bronnir. "I'm the king of Gonad!"  
  
Alreadygone and Bronnir's rivalry, it seemed, had not diminished.  
  
"I'm the king!"  
  
"No, I am!"  
  
This carried on for several days until Alreadygone finally succeded in drowning Bronnir in Gladeintheair's mirror (aka. Big, Stainless Steel Basin of Water.) Who knew Bronnir couldn't swim?  
  
The Gladhaddrim, as the people of Loroflory were called, seemed to have taken up a profound intrest in horticulture and spent most of their lives in trees, proving once and for all, that the Elves were descendants of the Great Monkey who lived in the Sky and not from the Great Eggplant who lived in a Bush (Note: I would like everyone to know that I currently am tied to a chair with a gun barrel pointed at my head, being forced to write these things by a man who calls himself 'Mr. X' although the reason as to why he is wearing a McDonalds uniform with a name tag saying 'Hello, my name is David Brown' Is entirely uncertian. Anyway, I am not acting out of my own free will. Now, back to the story.)  
  
It was in the middle of the night and Fido still wasn't able to put his mind to rest. He considered taking off all his clothes and hopping about the courtyard for a lark but thought better of it. Lotoflory was extremely cold at this time of year.  
  
"Fido."  
  
He opened his eyes and looked up into the Elven queen's own. "Yes?"  
  
"Come with me."  
  
Pulling his breeches up and over his leopard-print boxer shorts, he followed the Lady to a clearing in the middle of which stood the Mirror which we shall, from now on, refer to as BSSBW. "Look inside," urged Gladeintheair, gesturing toward the BSSBW. "Look inside and tell me what you see.  
  
Fido pulled himself up the pedestal on which the Mirror stood and peered inside. The lifeless face of Bronnir glared back at him.  
  
"Yaaaaah!"  
  
"Do you know anything about this?!" the lady thundered, looking less like a lady and more like a rabid rhino on a rampage. "Do you know how a member of your fellowship could clog up my drain?!"  
  
"I.I don't know! Honestly, my lady. I know nothing of this!"  
  
"You lie!"  
  
"No! Seriously! And to prove it to you." Fido pulled the jeans from his pocket. "I will give you the One Jeans."  
  
"You." Gladeintheair's features twisted weirdly. "You offer it to me freely."  
  
"I do. If you ask it of me.I will give it to you."  
  
"I must admit.I have very much desired this." she was moving closer and closer now.  
  
"Take it. Please."  
  
There was a ripping sound and the Lady split in half!  
  
"Yaaaaah!" Fido yelled for the second time that day. In Gladeintheair's place stood Alreadygone. "You idiot!" He cried, slapping Fido across the face with his wig. "You were willing to betray us!"  
  
"I wasn't!"  
  
"Yes you were! You're a traitor."  
  
"And what were you doing wandering around in a dress?!"  
  
The scout's eyes widened. Clearly he was not anticipating such a question. "I was just.ah.checking on you! To.um, see how loyal you are to us."  
  
Fido may not have been a rocket scientist but Alreadygone's hesitation quickly gave him away. "You're a transvestite!"  
  
"No!" said Alreadygone quickly, but his voice lacked rancor.  
  
"Yes you are!"  
  
"Oh, fine." Alreadygone leaned very close to Fido. "You don't tell anyone about this and I won't tell about you trying to sell us out.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Fine."  
  
Fido turned to leave but turned at the sound of Alreadygone's voice. "Fido?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"If you so much as make a peep, you'll end up like Bronnir over there."  
  
End of Chapter Five 


	6. The Flaming Lava Wonky Thingy&Epilouge

Chapter Six = The Flaming Lava Wonky thingy® (Fear not! The end is in sight!)  
  
Obligatory Legal Disclamer Thingy: OK. This fic' has not been authorised by the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema or anyone else with a connection to the Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings, names and related indicia is a trademark of the JRR Tolkien Estate and does not belong to me, though I sure as heck wish it did. Err. thank you. Now read this fic.  
  
For Grace, in lasting memory of our friendship  
  
It was raining heavily when the Fellowship reached Bordor. Duplofirst was whining about the state of his hair, Alreadygone was whining about Duplofirst's whining about the state of his hair and Gibblet was threatening to decapitate Alreadygone for whining about Duplofirst whining about the state of his hair. Phew.  
  
"There it is!" Fido cried, jumping up and down. "The last sign!"  
  
The Fellowship stopped bickering and turned to look. "Congratulations! You have reached the Flaming Lava Wonky Thingy®! Give yourselves a pat on the back. The Flaming Lava Wonky thingy® is a trademark of Bordor, serving and killing more than ten million people to date. Ten dollars per entry and extra for cameras." Duplofirst read, raising an eyebrow. "Well, we know we're on the right track at least."  
  
"Does anyone have any money?"Hairy asked hopefully.  
  
"Nope." Came the unanamous reply.  
  
"Well, I don't see a guard. We'll just walk right in, then." Said Gibblet, his hands on his (rather large) hips.  
  
"OK." Areadygone said with forced brightness. "Lets go!"  
  
The Fellowship trooped up the side of the Flaming Lava Wonky Thingy®, standing at it's edge.  
  
"Well," said Fido sadly. "Here goes." He held the jeans over the side.  
  
"Stop!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Bottom was climbing up behind them. "You forgot to pay the fee."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The Fee! The Fee! You'll have to give that to me in exchange." He said, holding up his hand. "Give me the jeans."  
  
"Don't be an idiot." Fido cried defiantly. "I'm not giving them to you. Not on my life."  
  
"Then prepare to die!" Bottom bellowed, pulling a machine gun from behind his back. (I've always wondered how they did that.) but, just as he raised the weapon to shoot, a huge earthquake shook the land, and everything dissolved into nothingness.  
  
Epilouge  
  
Fido Shaggings sat up in bed, breathing hard. His gardener, Phlegm Andpee was trimming the verbs outside. Climbing out of bed, he sat down at his desk and started to write;  
  
'It was a lovely summer's day in Little Hearth. Lovely for everyone that is, except Fido Shaggings.'  
  
To be continued. 


	7. 

The Lord of the Jeans By Andrea Tee Shao Wen  
  
Obligatory Legal Disclamer Thingy: OK. This fic' has not been authorised by the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema or anyone else with a connection to the Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings, names and related indicia is a trademark of the JRR Tolkien Estate and does not belong to me, though I sure as heck wish it did. Err. thank you. Now read this fic.  
  
For Dad and Shari. Happy Birthday! Also for Mum & Ryan.  
  
Three Crates for the traffickers under the ground Seven for the marketers to be theirs alone, Nine for the Dork Riders to share all around One for the Dork Lord on his Dork throne One Jeans to Rule them all, One Jeans to Shrink them, One jeans to Fade them all And in the Dorkness bind them.  
  
Chapter one = A long-dreaded party  
  
It was a lovely summer's day in Little Hearth. Lovely for everyone that is, except Fido Shaggings.  
  
Fido sat in his large, overstuffed armchair, staring off into empty space and brooding. (He had chosen this as a favourite pastime as this actually happened to make him look marginally intelligent.) His gardener, Phlegm Andpee, was clipping the rose bushes outside.  
  
The reason for Fido's dire mood that day was none other than his uncle, Bit O' Shaggings who had lost his mind as the result of over consummation of Farmer Faggot's pickled onions. On the upside, the onions had given Bit O' an abnormally long life thus enabling him to live up to a hundred and eleven; the cause for today's big celebration up in Bobbiton.  
  
If he knew his uncle correctly, the party would be a wild one. Lots of spitting, swearing and throwing up all around. Fido's idea of a good time involved a quiet game of cards, munching a carrot or two and curling up in his little Bobbit hole with his favourite book (Baby's First Words) which he found extremely deep and very challenging indeed.  
  
Fido was drawn from his train of thought by a pounding in his head. (Brooding was hard work) So he slid from his chair to make himself a pot of strong tea. And who should he run into at that very moment but Dandruff the Puce- a wizard and strong opposer of the Dork side.  
  
"Well, hello, Dandruff! Jolly good to see you."  
  
"Mrrrtsghp." was all the answer Dandruff could muster. The Dork Lord Saulang had stolen Dandruff's one and only toothbrush for his own dork and dire purposes. Without the convenience of oral cleaning agents, the wizard soon found that all his teeth had left him.and he was always misplacing his dentures.  
  
After several minutes of searching his voluminous robes, Dandruff retrieved something that looked very suspiciously like a lump of clay which, to Fido's disgust, he stuffed into his mouth with much aplomb. "Good to see you too, Fido." The wizard said, adjusting his false teeth with a tweak of his little finger. "I am here on a diplomatic mission."  
  
"From Alderaan?" Fido cried, clapping his hands in joy. Star Wars had come out early in DVD that year and was one of his favourite movies. "Are we going to blast the Death Star?'  
  
Dandruff shot him a withering look. "No, young Fido. Your uncle." checking for people within earshot, Dandruff bent down and whispered in Fido's ear. "Has something I would very much desire to have."  
  
"Ooooh! What is it?"  
  
"The Dork Lord Saulang has been up to his dork tricks again. This time, he's marketing counterfeit jeans in the underground. Bit O' has stumbled accidentally upon a pair of very expensive (fake) Levis. It must be destroyed before some unsuspecting Elf buys them and they shrink.and.and.he will be crushed! Crushed to the consistency of instant soup mix-the ones that come in those cute little packets-crushed, I tell you!" Dandruff was breathing hard, now. And his position near Fido's rather large nose was making the Bobbit feel extremely uncomfortable.  
  
"Yed, Dandrud," Fido said placatingly, pinching his (Fido's) nose. "Don'd worry. Bud how did Bid O' ged dhe jeans?"  
  
"They were dropped by the creature Bottom."  
  
"From Bottom enterprises©? The pipe marketing company?" Fido cried, aghast.  
  
"Indeed. Saulang has many spies. Birds.beasts.math teachers.even the people at Bottom Enterprises©. The jeans must be destroyed! You must do this."  
  
"Why?!"  
  
Dandruff gripped the Bobbit's arm tightly, gesturing violently with his free hand. "Because, Fido, the jeans have a magic pull. It wants to be worn! And when that happens, the consequences will be terrible."  
  
"But what does that have to do with me?" Fido whined. "I'm going to sulk."  
  
"Fido, only two of us know that these jeans have been worn by Bit O' Shaggings. Only we know how unsanitary your uncle is. With this knowledge in mind, you will be able to resist it's siren call! Do you understand?!" Dandruff cried, eyes popping scarily. "And besides, I've got an appointment with my manicurist tomorrow."  
  
"Oh." Fido couldn't come up with anything else. 'oh' had pretty much used up all the possibilities.  
  
He needn't have worried, however, for Dandruff had popped his head out of the window and yanked Phlegm into the hole by the pointy ears. "Phlem Andpee! What are you doing here?!"  
  
"You elongated my ears, you paranoid old fart!" Phlegm yelled, whacking Dandruff over the head with his trowel. "I was just digging up the carrots!"  
  
"How much did you hear?!"  
  
Phlegm yanked the headphones off his head. "Nothing! Clear nothing! I was listening to the radio you old fool!"  
  
"I don't believe you." Dandruff said, curling his lip suspiciously. "You're going to follow Fido to the hotel of the Hopping Horse. And don't you dare try anything funny!"  
  
Striding to the wardrobe and bumping his head several times on the beams, Dandruff eased the rancid, sweat-dripping article of clothing from the drawer and tossed it at Fido. "Look at the label, Fido! What do you see?!"  
  
"Made in Taiwan." The Bobbit said, peering through the grime.  
  
"No, No! The other label!"  
  
"I.I see.linty markings. But I cannot read them."  
  
"Ah. It is just as I feared." Said Dandruff looking thoroughly delighted. "It is the dork language of Bordor. It reads 'One Jeans to Rule them all, One Jeans to shrink them. One Jeans to fade them all, and in the dorkness bind them.' It is the One Jeans! The One Jeans that Saulang needs to start an empire of counterfeit denim!"  
  
"I am ready. What must I do?" Fido asked, sticking his chest out. Phlegm, in a fit of spite, prodded him on the bum with a spade.  
  
"Go! To the hotel of the Hopping Horse!" The wizard cried, booting them out the door. Watching them stagger down the street, Dandruff wondered if he should have told them about the Nine Dork Riders. Hmm. Maybe not.  
  
End of Chapter One 


End file.
